A Newsies Chrsitmas Carol
by Fantasy3
Summary: My Christmas 2003 Fic FINISHED: What happens when Newsies and A Christmas Carol are mixed! THIS FIC! Where Pulitzer is Scrooge and everyone gets some muchneeded Christmas Spirit!
1. A Visit to Pulitzer

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the plot. The characters are from Newsies, and so they belong to Disney. The plot is from 'A Christmas Carol". So I own nothing. like always, lol.  
  
Author's Note: I changed the plot a little. It's still the three ghosts coming and all, but what they ghosts show is different than in the book, though pretty much along the same lines. well, you'll see as you read.  
  
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Joseph Pulitzer sat down in his office. For some reason, he thought of his father, the one who had gotten him into the newspaper field. If it hadn't been for him, Pulitzer wouldn't be where he was today. He shook his head, thinking about him, for he had been dead for seven years. Seven years! That was a long time.  
However, he was interrupted. Seitz, a man who worked for him, walked into the room. "Mr. Pulitzer."  
"What is it, Seitz?" Pulitzer asked.  
"Well, it's just that tomorrow is Christmas." Seitz began.  
"Let me guess? You don't want to work." Pulitzer said.  
"Yes. After all, I do have a family." Seitz said.  
"And you expect me to still pay you?" Pulitzer asked. "After everything we went through this summer to gain all that money, you expect me to pay you when you don't work!"  
"Well, it IS Christmas." Seitz said.  
"Fine! Go off, and have a nice day. But I expect you here the day after, ready to work. And no more days off!" Pulitzer cried.  
"Thank you." Seitz said, and walked back out. He shook his head at Jonathan, a younger man who also worked for Pulitzer. "He said we could have the day off, and we'll still get paid."  
  
"He's changed, hasn't he?" Jonathan asked. "Since the strike."  
  
"He has. He got too money hungry. When the newsies won the strike, he lowered the price again, but once the other papers stopped covering the strike, and the government stopped watching him, he raised it again, and threatened the poor boys. Now he seems to hate Christmas. He told me yesterday it was a waste of money."  
"Are you leaving now, then?" Jonathan asked.  
"In a moment." Seitz said.  
"I'll leave with you. I don't want to stay here with him by myself." Jonathan said, and he started packing up, as did Seitz.  
At that time, someone came into their room. "Merry Christmas!" she cried.  
"Merry Christmas!" Seitz said back to Pulitzer's niece, for that is who she was. She was only a little girl, about 12.  
"Is my uncle still here?" She asked.  
"Yes, in the back room." Seitz said.  
  
"Then that's where I'm headed." She said, and walked through into Pulitzer's room.  
"Merry Christmas, Uncle Joseph!" She said.  
"Merry Christmas? What's so merry about it?" Pulitzer asked.  
"Oh, Uncle! It's such a wonderful time of year!" She cried.  
"What are you doing here, Michelle?" Pulitzer asked.  
"To invite you to dinner! My mother told me to come and ask. You have always come, and it's been fun." She said.  
"I won't make it this year." Pulitzer said.  
"Why not? What are you doing?" Michelle asked, disappointed.  
"Nothing." Pulitzer said.  
"Then come!" Michelle said.  
"I can't. Now go back home and tell my sister I'm sorry, but I can't make it." Pulitzer said.  
"Alright, Uncle, but you'll be sorry!" Michelle cried out. "And a Merry Christmas!"  
She ran out and all the way home, laughing in the snow. Nothing could make her unhappy on Christmas Eve.  
Seitz and Jonathan were also leaving, and they followed her down the stairs, though at a slower pace. They separated at the bottom, both going different ways, with a Merry Christmas.  
Pulitzer, too, was leaving. He picked up his case and his jacket and walked to the top of the stairs. He was just in time to hear his workers exchange Merry Christmases, and he frowned, mumbling, "What's so merry about them?"  
  
He walked through the snow in a bad mood, and up the walk to his house. He fished his key out of his pocket, and dropped it into the snow. Mumbling about cold weather, he bent to pick it up, but he couldn't find it. The snow made it dark, so he scrunched up his eyes and looked through his glasses to try and find the key. He stopped, though, because he felt like someone was staring at him. He looked toward the sidewalk, but didn't see anyone. He looked at his door, and jumped back. There on his door was the face of his father. He stared at it, and after a minute, it went away. He blinked, and decided that he had imagined it. He bent down, found his key, unlocked his door, and walked in and up to his bedroom. There, he ate a dinner, and was just settling in his chair by the fire, ready to read, when he was disrupted by a noise that sounded like chains clinking together.  
He looked up, but his back was turned away from the door. "Who's there?" he asked. No one answered. "I asked, who's there?" Yet again, no one answered. He stood up and turned around. What he saw made him jump back and almost set the bottom of his robes on fire.  
It was, unmistakably, the body of his father. "But that's impossible!" He thought aloud.  
"You think so, son?" the Ghost asked.  
"You're dead." Pulitzer said simply.  
"I am. But it's a horrible fate I have. I'm chained to all the sins I've ever made, and doomed to walk the Earth for all of time." His father said. "I was sent to help you, so you will not come to the same fate as I. You will be visited by three spirits, who shall come at One o'clock, sharp. Be ready for them, Joseph."  
Pulitzer was too shocked to say anything, and, in truth, too scared. At the mention of spirits visiting him, he ran to his bed and closed the curtains around him, thinking him safe. He peeked out and saw the ghost of his father fly through the window. At that time, Pulitzer realized he had been holding his breath, and he let it out.  
"Bah!" He said. "Humbug! Spirits!"  
  
He laid down and pulled he blankets to his chin, being sure not to kick the curtains aside. ________________________________  
  
I know bah humbug is totally not mine, but whenever I think of 'A Christmas Carol', I think of that, so I HAD to add it. Hehe. Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter. I'll come out with the next soon, because I hope to finish it in time for Christmas. REVIEW!! And an almost Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays!! (Or both!!) Love ya!!! 


	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Disclaimer: Yet again, I do not own "A Christmas Carol" or Newsies; they belong to their rightful owners, which, unfortunately, aren't me. But enjoy me version of them!  
  
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Pulitzer woke with a start from his sleep. He heard the Church bell ring One O'clock. "The Spirits!" he cried out, and ducked under his covers as he heard his curtains get pulled back. After a few minutes, nothing happened, and he lifted the covers of his bed and saw in front of him a Spirit.  
"What do you want from me?!" He cried out.  
"Come with me, Pulitzer. You'll see in a minute." The Spirit said.  
"What if I didn't want to?" Pulitzer asked.  
"You have to." The Spirit said. Pulitzer, not wanting anything to happen got out of bed. 'Better to get this over with', he thought.  
The Spirit walked to the window and held out his hand. "Grab onto me, and we'll go."  
  
"We're going out the window! You have to remember, I can't fly!" Pulitzer said.  
"There'll be no need to once you hold onto me. And don't let go." He warned.  
Pulitzer sighed and grabbed the Spirit's hand. "Off we go!" the Spirit cried, and the room dissolved right in front of his eyes. When the blackness turned into light again, he wasn't sure where he was.  
"Where did you take me?" Pulitzer asked.  
"Look around, Pulitzer." The Spirit said.  
Pulitzer felt there was no need to look around, but he did, and what he saw was very familiar. "Why. why, this was my home!" Pulitzer cried out, for once, happily.  
"It is. Now watch." The Spirit commanded. Pulitzer did what he was told, and in a minute, a little girl came into the room.  
"Sarah!" He called out. "Sarah!! It's me, Sarah! It's me, Joseph!"  
  
"She cannot see you. No one can. You are just a visitor in Christmas past."  
Pulitzer instantly became sad, and he watched his sister hang up her stocking on the fireplace. He heard her sigh, staring at the place beside it. Their mother walked into the room, and smiled at the girl.  
"I wish Joseph was here." Sarah said. "Why did he go off to school?"  
  
"He had too. You know your step-father; he doesn't want him in the same place as him." Her mother said.  
"Why did they start fighting, mother?" Sarah asked.  
"I don't know, Sarah. I don't know."  
The room, again, dissolved, and once again came back to light. But they were in a different place, a place far away from Pulitzer's childhood home- his boarding school. Pulitzer sat by himself, hunched in front of the fire, warming his hands. The old Pulitzer became sadder still. This Christmas had been one of the worst. He thought again of everything that had happened: It was his first Christmas away from home, and all the other students had gone home for the holidays, but not him. He wasn't wanted at home- at least, he thought he had not been wanted. So he spent that Christmas alone, with no Santa or trees or stockings.  
"Spirit, why are you showing me this? How can this help me?" Pulitzer asked.  
"It is something you needed to see." The Spirit explained. He grabbed onto Pulitzer, and again the room dissolved and became brighter. Only this time, they were outside in the rain, semi-shaded by large pine trees. Not that it mattered; the rain fell through them anyway.  
"Where are we now?" Pulitzer asked.  
Instead of answering, the Spirit pointed to a group of boys a few feet away from them, gathered around a make-shift fire. "Do you know them?"  
  
Pulitzer shook his head, but the Spirit shooed him forward so he could see their faces. And, indeed, he knew who all of them were. "It's Jimmy! And Andrew! And there's Mark and Evan! And over there- why, that's me!"  
  
"Yes, it is." The Spirit said.  
Pulitzer smiled as he looked around at the "guys". He knew all of them well. They were the best friends he ever had. They went through thick and thin together, because they were his war buddies. He became quiet, listening to what they were saying, and smiling more so as he heard all their voices once more.  
"It's twelve o'clock, one the dot." Jimmy said. "Merry Christmas!"  
"And what's so merry about it, Jimmy? We're in the pouring rain, in the middle of no where, fightin' the Confederates!" Mark cried, always the pessimist.  
"Stop jabbering, Mark! It's Christmas, a time to be HAPPY." Jimmy cried.  
"How can I? I'm in a whole different state then my family. I can't be happy about that."  
  
"Well, we should make the best of what we have." Evan said. The older Pulitzer stared at him sadly. His friend had always been a sickly one. No one was sure how he got into the army, but he wasn't doing well. The old Pulitzer could see he had bags under his eyes and he was pale and coughing a lot. But the young Pulitzer and the rest didn't notice it, not until it was too late, and poor Evan died.  
"What do we have?" Mark asked.  
"We have each other." The young Pulitzer said.  
"Joe's right, you know. We should celebrate! How about some songs?" Andrew said. "My favorite has always been."  
  
Jimmy cut him off, saying good-naturedly, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. We should know. You've sang it every day since the beginning of December!"  
"Well, I like We Wish You a Merry Christmas." Evan said.  
"We'll sing it loud enough for both the armies to hear!" Andrew shouted. And they did. Even Mark, who got caught up in the Christmas Spirit. Pulitzer began to cry, remembering that Christmas.  
"I don't understand, Spirit! How have I become so cold?!" he cried, already beginning to change.  
The spirit looked down sadly at him, and held on to him so that everything became black. When they could see again, they were in an empty room that Pulitzer would know anywhere.  
"It's my new house. Well, my old house. The one I got when I first got started in the family business." Pulitzer said. He looked around at the small house, with only one floor and a bedroom, living room, and kitchen. But it was cozy, and nothing could have been better.  
A young Pulitzer walked into the room, holding the hand of Emily. "Emily!" old Pulitzer cried. "Oh, Spirit! Why did you show me Emily?!"  
  
The Spirit said nothing, and Pulitzer listened.  
"Merry Christmas, Emily! Let this new year be successful, as this last one has!" the young Pulitzer said.  
Emily stood on tip-toe and kissed him. "I hope so, Joe."  
  
Pulitzer smiled down at her. "My dear, I think the party is waiting for us!"  
Emily nodded and they walked out the door as everything turned black again. When again they could see, they were inside Pulitzer's office. Pulitzer himself was sitting at the desk, and Emily walked in. Though Pulitzer seemed to have grown older, Emily looked the same.  
"Joe, you ought to come home. It's Christmas Eve!" Emily began.  
"I can't, Emily. I can't leave my work. I need to figure out what to do now, the last paper didn't make nearly enough money that it should have!"  
  
"But you sold all but twenty papers!" Emily cried, astonished.  
"That may be true, but they all should have sold!" Pulitzer cried. "I need to figure this out."  
"Couldn't you do that after Christmas?" Emily pleaded.  
Pulitzer looked up at her with cold eyes. "No, I cannot. Now go back home."  
  
Emily lowered her head, and was halfway out the door when she turned back. "No, Joseph. I will not go back."  
  
Pulitzer looked up from his desk. "What do you mean?"  
"I've had it. I'm leaving. I will not spend my time with you any longer. You've changed, Joseph. You're not the same person. I feel like I've lost you."  
"I'm right here, Emily."  
"No. You're not the same person I fell in love with. He died when you became manager. I can't live with you, Joseph. You're not Joe anymore." With that, Emily walked out, and Pulitzer never saw her again.  
"Spirit! No, don't show me anything more! Bring me home, Spirit, please!" Pulitzer cried. How could he have done that? Emily was the love of his life!  
The Spirit nodded, and the next place Pulitzer found himself was in his bed, and the Spirit was gone. And Pulitzer felt tired. So very tired. He laid his head down, and he was in a deep sleep.  
  
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Another chapter finished! I'm rolling on this story!! LoL!! And I HAD to make Pulitzer go back to Christmas during the Civil War. You remember that part, when he says "I was in a war! The Civil War!" Too perfect to pass up. I hope you enjoyed this!! I'll get the next chapters up soon, too.  
  
I find it really funny that this is one of the longer stories chapter-wise that I've written, and yet I'm writing it so much faster than the rest of them. lol. Probably 'cause I already know the plot, like, backwards and forwards.  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Present

Disclaimer: I don't own Christmas Carol or Newsies. Period. No questions asked. I'm just putting them in my own words. kinda. But yeah.  
  
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Pulitzer, again, woke with a start, hearing the church bells, yet again, ringing One O'clock in the morning. At first, he thought 'Impossible!' but then thought about what had just happened, and took it back. He pushed his covers off of him and moved by the opening in his curtains to peek out. No one was there.  
"Boo!" said a women's voice behind him.  
"AHHH!" Pulitzer cried, and fell out of his bed. He heard the girl Spirit laugh, and watched as she came to his side of the bed.  
"Come along, Pulitzer. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present." She said.  
Pulitzer got up and followed her out of the window, again. But this time, they were flying over the town and landed in front of his sister's house.  
"Watch, Pulitzer. See what you are missing." The Spirit said.  
Pulitzer looked through the window and saw his sister stand up. "Alright, everyone! It's time for a toast!" Everyone cheered. "For having such a wonderful party!" She cried to more cheering. "For all the wonderful food!" More cheering. "For all the wonderful people can have come!" Yet MORE cheering. "And for my brother!" Silence.  
"Why should we toast to your good-for-nothing brother?" someone cried out.  
"Because he's really a good guy." she started.  
"He's changed, Sarah. You need to stop thinking that he hasn't!" her husband said.  
"In the Spirit of Christmas, let us toast my brother, if not for whom he is now, but for he once was." At this, everyone cheered and took a drink of their wine.  
The Spirit grabbed onto Pulitzer again, and this time they flew to an old, worn-down building.  
"The Newsboys Lodging House?" Pulitzer asked. "What are we doing here?"  
  
"The Newsboys Lodging House?" Pulitzer asked. "What are we doing here?"  
  
"You need to see this, Pulitzer. After the strike, these boys were all happy. But once all the papers stopped writing about it, and the government stopped watching you to make sure you did nothing to the boys, you DID do something to them. You raised the price again, and threatened them not to tell anyone! Now you can see what you've done to them."  
They went through the wall and into the lodging house.  
"Merry Christmas, Kloppy!" Jack called out. "Tanks for the cocoa!"  
"It's the least I could do." Kloppman said, smiling at the boys' joy. It had been awhile since they'd been that happy.  
"Hey, Jack! Weah's Crutchy?" Race called out.  
"I dunno. I'll go check da bunk room." Jack called back.  
"No need ta. Ise right here." Crutchy said from the bottom of the stairs.  
"Crutchy! How ya feelin'?" Mush asked.  
"Bettah." Crutchy answered. But everyone in the room knew otherwise. Crutchy's leg was getting worse, and he needed help. But no one had enough money to get the help, let alone rent for the lodgings and food.  
"Come on, Crutchy, Kloppy bought us some hot chocolate!" Skittery said, bringing him a cup of it.  
"Aw, swell. How'd ya get it, Kloppy?" Crutchy asked, walking slowly and painfully over to the couch and sitting.  
"I've been saving up for a special occasion, and thought this would be a good one." Kloppman answered.  
"Gee, thanks, Kloppy!" Crutchy said, taking a drink of it.  
"Crutchy, we got somethin' for ya." Race said, hiding something behind his back.  
"We all made it for ya." Jake said, smiling.  
"Why'd ya get me somethin'? I don't need anythin'." Crutchy said.  
"We thought ya might need dis." Jack said, taking the present from Racetrack and handing it to Crutchy. "It's anuddah crutch. Ya said dat you need one den one now."  
  
"Tanks, guys!" Crutchy shouted, smiling even brighter than before. "Yer da best!"  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Pulitzer asked.  
"His leg is getting worse, and they don't have enough money to get him the help he needs." The Spirit said.  
"Another crutch won't help him!" Pulitzer cried.  
"I know that, and they know that, but it's all they can do." The Spirit explained.  
"Tell me, Spirit. What happens to him?!" Pulitzer shouted.  
The Spirit shook her head, frowning slightly. "I cannot tell you. I am here for the present, not the future."  
  
"Then I shall never know?!" Pulitzer asked.  
"You'll know, Pulitzer." She said, and he found himself in his bedroom again. And, as before, he felt tired. Once his head hit his pillow, he was asleep.  
  
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WOO HOO!! Another chapter!! It was kinda short, but the NEWSIES were in it!!  
  
I was watchin the Mickey Mouse Christmas Carol tonight. I was so excited, I LOVE that movie!!!! GO MICKEY MOUSE!!! LoL! Now I'm thinking about that one when I write this! REVIEW!!! LoL! 


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies or A Christmas Carol. If you don't know who they belong to. tough. Lol.  
  
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Pulitzer awoke, hearing the clock strike One O'clock. This time, he wanted to be ready for the Spirit. He got up out of his bed and stood at the front of it, so he could see all ways. "No one can scare me THIS time." He said to himself.  
All of a sudden, though, his room got cold, and disappeared, turning into a dark graveyard. He looked to the left and right, but saw nothing. Then he turned around and stumbled back, for a dark, cloaked figure was floating towards him.  
"Are you the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come?" Pulitzer asked, trembling.  
The Spirit nodded his head. Pulitzer stared at it and asked, "Then can you tell me what happens to Crutchy?!"  
The Spirit pointed behind him, and Pulitzer turned around and part of the graveyard lit up so he could see what was happening. Standing there were all the newsies he had seen in the Lodging House. One of them, Jack, stepped forward and placed a crutch on top of a grave. He could hear them crying, and saw Jack stand up, shaking from the sobs. And then the light disappeared, along with the boys and the sad scene.  
"Where did they go?" Pulitzer asked.  
The Spirit said nothing, but motioned for Pulitzer to follow him.  
"But Spirit, where are we going?" he asked, having trouble keeping up with the Spirit, for he had to walk around the gravestones, while the Spirit just floated through them.  
Again, the Spirit said nothing, but continued on its way. Pulitzer had no choice but to follow him, so he did. When the Spirit stopped, it was at the end of the graveyard, and he pointed to a group of people standing by the gate. Pulitzer shrugged, not knowing what to do. The Spirit pointed back and forth from Pulitzer to the people.  
Pulitzer guessed he wanted him to listen, so he walked up to them and listened to what they were saying.  
"So he is dead, it's a sure thing." A women said.  
"Yes, Molly. He's dead. I never thought I would see the day." the only man replied.  
"I suppose we should feel sorry for him." The other woman said.  
"Now, Cora. Why should we feel sorry for him?" Molly asked.  
"There was no one to go to his wake, or even have a wake planned for him. No one cares that he died. His niece just bought a cheap casket for him, and told them to just bury him." Cora said.  
"He had a sibling? That poor person!" The man cried out.  
"Yes, it was a sister. I knew her meself. A nice woman, she was, but she died a couple years back. Come to think of it, he never went to the funeral! And if I believe right, she died of a simple cold! If only she had enough money to get medicine, she would have been fine. But she didn't have enough, and that brother of hers wouldn't give her any." Cora said.  
"Probably too busy with work, the selfishness of him!" The man said.  
"I don't doubt it, John. But I'll still pity him- I know that I wouldn't like to die that way, with no one caring." Cora said.  
"People care, Cora! I don't know about you, but most people are quite happy he died!" Molly exclaimed.  
"I am, too. That man was too evil for the devil himself, I guarantee it." Cora said. The rest of the group laughed, and they moved away.  
"Spirit! Who was it that died?" Pulitzer asked. He felt sorry for the poor man, too. No one to even plan a funeral for him! He should have known by now, though, that this Spirit did not talk. It glided away, expecting Pulitzer to follow, and he did. They stopped beside a grave, and the Spirit pointed to the gravestone.  
"Why did we stop here?" Pulitzer asked. But the Spirit never moved, and he leaned forward to read what it said. In big, bold letters, it said clearly "JOSEPH PULITZER". He gasped and stumbled back, staring at the gravestone.  
"It can't be! But it is! It was me that died, that those people had been talking about! I'm the one with no friends, the one that is evil! Spirit, no!! It cannot be!! Please say that I can still change, that this isn't for sure! Please Spirit, I'll change!! Tell me I can change!! Tell me it isn't too late!! Please, Spirit!! I learned my lesson, I'll change!! I'll change!"  
As he was shouting, everything turned black, and he found himself back in his room.  
  
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I'm almost finished. I'm gonna finish it right now. But I want it in two different chapters, since that's how it is in the book. So, I hope you enjoyed this!! 


	5. The Good in Pulitzer

Disclaimer: For the last time (literally) I don't own A Christmas Carol. Or Newsies.  
  
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Pulitzer smiled. "I'm home!" He cried out. "I can change!" He stopped and raced to the window, calling down to a boy walking past. "What day is it?!  
  
"Why, it's the 25!" the boy called back.  
"Of what month?!"  
"December!" The boy cried out.  
"Then it's Christmas!" Pulitzer shouted, more to him self than the boy.  
"It is!" the boy shouted back.  
"Merry Christmas, boy!!" Pulitzer called, and shut the window. "I have time! And I have lots to do!" He got dressed and first headed to the poultry shop to buy a turkey. He left with the biggest one they had and a Merry Christmas. When Pulitzer was out of the shop, the owner turned to his apprentice.  
"Was that who I think it was?" he asked.  
"I think so. But he's changed!" the apprentice said.  
"He has. And it's for the better." The owner said, smiling.  
Pulitzer continued down the street, shouting a Merry Christmas to everyone he saw. Everyone seemed to know who he was, and some were shocked, some smiled and wished him a Merry Christmas back, and some thought they were just seeing things. Either way, Pulitzer didn't care. When he got to the Newsboys Lodging House, he smiled again and walked up the stairs to knock on the door. He could hear people shouting and laughing inside, so he didn't think anyone would hear him. Turns out that someone did, though, and the door was opened by an elderly man. Kloppy, Pulitzer remembered.  
"May I come in?" Pulitzer asked.  
"Mr. Pulitzer? What are you doing here?" Kloppman asked. The boy closest to the door, who happened to be Racetrack, shouted out, "IT'S PULITZER!"  
That shut everyone up. They all dropped what they were doing and stared at the door.  
"May I come in?" Pulitzer asked again. Kloppman nodded and he walked through the door, smiling.  
"Dat smile can only mean one thing- somethin' bad." Jack whispered to Kid Blink. "He nevah smiles."  
"Hello, boys." Pulitzer said.  
"What are ya doin' heah, Pulitzer?" Racetrack asked, frowning.  
"Race, be quiet." Kloppman said. Racetrack shut up, but kept frowning at him.  
"That's ok, Kloppy." Pulitzer said. Race laughed at that.  
"Kloppy?! You kiddin', Pulitzer?! No one calls 'im Kloppy 'cept us. It's Kloppman." He said.  
Pulitzer shrugged, not letting it bother him. "Well, then. Kloppman, that's ok. I'll answer your question... Race?"  
Racetrack shook his head. "Racetrack ta you."  
"Alright. Then, Racetrack, I'm here because I wanted to apologize for everything I have done to you. I want to give you this turkey," he held up the box he was holding, "and tell you that I'll be lowering the price back to what it was, and I'll compromise with everything you want. I owe you that much, and a whole more."  
  
The newsies stared at him, not believing it.  
"Why should we believe ya?" Jack asked, stepping up. See, I told you no one believed it.  
"There's no reason for you too. But please, I'm asking you. I've changed." Pulitzer said.  
Everyone was silent, and then Crutchy stood up. "I believe ya, Pulitzer." He smiled at him, and walked forward slowly. When he reached Pulitzer, he stuck his hand out, and Pulitzer took.  
"And I have something for you, Crutchy." Pulitzer said. "I know you need a doctor. So I've arranged for one to come here, instead of you going to the hospital. He'll check on it, and do whatever he can."  
Jack finally believed him, and he walked up to Pulitzer. "Thank ya, Joe."  
Pulitzer smiled at him. "I owe you all that."  
  
Crutchy smiled, too. "God bless us, every one!"  
  
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Hehehe. I can't see Pulitzer doing that. but hey, that's the story, so that's the way it goes. I hope you liked it, and a MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!!! 


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